


Your Dirty Smile Shames the Sun

by Sena



Series: Kiss it Better [2]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Face-Fucking, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Negotiated Kink, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pancakes, throat fucking, and a good book.  It's kind of Mikey's idea of a perfect day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Dirty Smile Shames the Sun

Mikey's not great at a lot of things. He's terrible at remembering birthdays and balancing his checkbook. He thinks he's pretty good on bass. He's got a fantastic record collection. And he's really, really amazing when it comes to not talking about things. He went his entire childhood never once talking about how his mother was always drunk by dinnertime, and compared to two decades of that, this is nothing. So he's kind of freaked out about how hot it was to shove his best friend around and call him a slut, so what? Talking about it isn't going to solve anything.

And even if he did want to talk to someone about it, who could he tell? Not Ray, sure as hell not Otter, not even Gerard. He tries to imagine how that conversation would go. "So, I've always had these fantasies about tying people up and leaving them crying and bruised and I never felt bad about it because I assumed it was just a jerk off fantasy, and who cares what gets you off when you're jerking it? Only, I shoved Frank around and held him down and verbally abused him and it was sort of the most erotic experience of my entire life. Do you think wanting to slap his face every time I see him makes me a bad friend?"

He imagines Gerard blinking at him for a while, mouth trying to form words but too shocked to speak until, eventually, his brain would kick back into gear and he'd fall all over himself trying to soothe Mikey while surreptitiously making sure Mikey wasn't actually going to do anything Frank didn't want him to. Mikey can skip that entire awkward conversation for both their sakes.

And he's sure as hell not going to talk to Frank about it. They did some fucked up things and got off and learned more about each other than was comfortable, fine. There's no reason they have to talk about it. In high school, he'd totally fucked Gina Lewis while her boyfriend jerked off watching them, and he'd never felt the need to talk about it with either one of them after.

It took a couple of weeks of tense silence and very obviously avoiding each other for Frank and Mikey to settle back into their normal routine. Their normal routine is much better than avoiding each other, especially since they have most of the same friends and share a tiny apartment.

But they've been back into their normal routine for over a month, now, sleeping in and going to practice, hauling their dirty laundry in Frank's car over to Mikey's parents' house to do it for free. Frank actually sorts his laundry into piles instead of just shoving it all in the washer, and sometimes Mikey and Gerard will lounge against the far wall of the basement laundry room, drinking beer and watching him put things into piles. Lights are different from whites and darks are different from reds. It's kind of fascinating.

Frank will wave his arms and say, "I'm not a fucking sideshow, you freaks. You could help."

And Mikey will grin at him and say, "I could," and drink his beer.

If they don't have a gig, they'll go out. There's usually at least one house party to go to every night, not to mention the bars shady enough not to check Frank's ID. If they're really lucky, they'll get to see a great band or two and jump around in the pit and get fucked up and stumble home wasted out of their minds and laughing. Then they wake up late the next day and it starts all over again.

"Motherfucking pancakes," Frank says, stumbling out of his room.

Mikey's stretched out on the couch. He'd gotten up to piss around nine and then he'd gone to the kitchen to drink all the water in the world, and the couch had seemed much more comfortable and much more close than his bed, so he'd crashed out on it and that's where he'd stayed all morning.

Mikey says, "I think 'motherfucking pancakes' should replace 'good morning' as the official morning greeting. I'm thinking of writing up a petition."

Frank says, "I'll sign it." Then he heads into the kitchen and does something that Mikey can only understand in terms of magic. He takes things that would be disgusting to eat, like flour and oil and baking soda, and he turns them into things that are fucking delicious.

Less than ten minutes after Frank stumbles out of his room, he drops a plate onto Mikey's chest and says, "Eat," and on that plate are pancakes with sliced bananas cooked right into them the way Mikey loves.

Mikey says, "Magic."

Frank sits on Mikey's shins, then laughs when Mikey wiggles his legs and yanks them out of from under him. He says, "It's not magic. It is a little bit of science, though."

Mikey says, "Shhh," and uses his fork to very carefully cut into the banana oat pancakes drizzled with maple syrup. After the first bite, he says, "They even taste magic."

"I could explain the chemistry to you if you want," Frank tells him.

Mikey says, "Quiet. Eating magic, now."

Frank rolls his eyes and changes the channel. He watches the news because he wants to be a fully informed citizen or something. Mikey thinks the news is depressing and trusts Frank or Ray to tell him if anything important happens.

Thankfully, the news is over before Mikey's finished with his pancakes, so he has something to distract him from how depressing the world is. When he's finished, Frank takes the plate from him and leans forward to set it on the coffee table. When he leans forward, his t-shirt pulls up a little bit in the back and Mikey looks because okay, fine, he likes looking at Frank and he's totally not above sneaking peeks at his bare skin.

When Frank's shirt rides up, Mikey can see that he's bruised. It's actually not weird for Frank to be bruised considering the way he plays and how lost he gets in the pit on a regular basis, but the bruise is wrong. It's not a bruise from throwing himself around while on stage, not a bruise from somebody's elbow or knee or fist. It's a line of deep pink the width of Mikey's index finger surrounded by a dark purple-black bruise, and the edge of the pink line has small, jagged dots and dashes, tears in Frank's skin that have scabbed over.

Mikey sits up and puts his hand on the small of Frank's back, slides Frank's shirt up further to see more bruises. None of them are as dark as the first one Mikey saw wrapped around Frank's hip, but they're there. Pale lines and bruises already going yellow green and the scattered dark spots where Frank's skin had torn.

Frank has frozen beneath Mikey's touch. His arm is still outstretched from when he'd set the plate on the coffee table. His head is tipped down and his eyes are closed and he's breathing quick and shallow.

"Who did this to you?" Mikey asks.

Frank shakes his head and stands up quickly, grabs the plate and goes to dump it in the sink.

"Frank."

"It's none of your fucking business," Frank says, resting his hands on the kitchen counter, leaning on it like he needs it to hold him up.

Mikey doesn't even think about getting up and coming up behind Frank, he's just there, suddenly, with his hands on Frank's hips. He says, "Tell me."

"It was just a guy. Nobody you know. Nobody I knew."

Mikey slides Frank's shirt up beneath his armpits, then runs his fingers over the skin of Frank's back. _Caned,_ his mind supplies. _Frank's back looks like this because he got caned._

"It builds up," Frank whispers. "I try not to give in to it. I try, but then it comes out anyway and I almost fucked things up so bad last time and I don't want to fuck things up anymore. So I thought I'd do things differently. Instead of provoking, I'd just ask, just find a guy who wanted to hurt me."

"When?" Mikey asks, though he already knows the answer. Last Thursday Frank hadn't gone out with them even though they were going to see the Mucky Pup reunion show. He hadn't gone out with them Thursday night and Friday he'd stayed in his room because he was sick. He'd told Mikey he was sick and Mikey hadn't doubted him, had even made him tea and brought him applesauce and asked if it was serious enough to break out the TheraFlu. Frank had been curled up beneath his covers and he'd told Mikey he was fine and just needed to sweat it out. His voice had been thick and Mikey had assumed it was because Frank was congested, but maybe not. Maybe Frank had been crying.

"Thursday night," Frank says. "I went to a club. He asked me what I wanted, and when I told him, he invited me home with him."

Mikey eases Frank's sweatpants down. Not all the way, just a little bit. There are more bruises like the one that wraps around his hip, dark and overlapping.

"Tell me what he did to you."

"He tied me down," Frank whispers. "On a mattress in his basement. He hit me with a belt, then with a cane. He fucked me. Then he called me a cab and gave me forty bucks for the fare."

Mikey slides his hand up Frank's spine, then down again, feeling the ridges, feeling the way Frank's chest expands when he breathes. Why would anyone let Frank go if they had him? Who would be stupid enough to have Frank like that and then put him in a cab and send him away?

"I'm okay," Frank tells him softly. "I'm not traumatized or anything. I liked it."

Mikey nods and rests his forehead against Frank's shoulder. He says, "Yeah." He knows they're dangerously close to talking about things and he doesn't know how to back away from it, especially since he can't stop himself from saying, "Tell me what you liked the most."

He feels the tension in Frank's body and he's ready for it when Frank pushes back hard. Frank turns and his eyes are wild and he shoves both hands against Mikey's chest, slamming him back into the fridge, and it's like Mikey's watching it from outside himself as he slaps Frank's face and grabs his hair in one hand, yanking his head back hard, forcing Frank to his knees.

He knows things have gotten completely out of control again. He knows he and Frank are ruining any hopes of falling back into a comfortable friendly routine after this. He still says, "Tell me what part you liked the most, Frank."

Frank's eyes are closed and his mouth is open. He's breathing heavily, his shirt still rucked up beneath his armpits, his cock tenting the front of his sweats. He doesn't struggle against Mikey's hold on him. He wets his lips with his tongue, then says, "He was laughing at me. When he fucked me, he laughed at me because I was crying. He called me a faggot, told me I was only getting what I deserved."

"And you liked that part the best? More than the belt? More than getting caned?"

Frank says, "Yes," and all the tension drains out of him with the admission.

"Is that why you're so hard right now? Because you're remembering the way he used you?"

Frank nods. "Partly."

"What's the other part?"

Frank doesn't say anything, just presses his head up against Mikey's palm.

"I asked you a question."

Frank wets his lips again and takes a shaky breath and Mikey realizes that this is part of it. The very act of having to say what he likes out loud is turning Frank on. He says, "You. The way you touched me. The way you forced me down."

Mikey says, "You didn't fight very hard. Do you like being on your knees?"

Frank nods.

"Say it."

Frank says, "I like being on my knees for you. I want. I think about."

"Finish your sentence."

"I think about you all the time, think about you using me."

Mikey lets go of Frank's hair and says, "Good. Take your shirt off."

Frank does, letting it drop to the floor next to him.

"Arms behind your back."

Frank just does it, just does what Mikey says. He puts his arms behind his back, hands holding onto the opposite elbows, and he looks up at Mikey, watching him silently, pupils gone so wide his eyes look almost black.

Mikey unfastens his jeans and pushes them down just enough to get his dick out. It's not completely hard, but he rubs it against Frank's face anyway, over his cheeks and his mouth, pulling back when Frank parts his lips, his tongue reaching for a taste of it. He doesn't want to pull away, wants to shove his cock into Frank's mouth and get off hard and fast, but even more than that, he wants to make Frank squirm.

"Look at you," he pants, fisting his dick. "So fucking pathetic. Fucking gagging for it. You think I should give it to you? You think you deserve this?"

Frank says, "Please," and there's a hint of true desperation in his voice. "Please, Mikey, I need it."

"Say it."

"I need your cock. I want your cock in my mouth so bad. Want you to fuck my face, fucking use me, make me your whore."

Mikey says, "Jesus," and rests one hand on the top of Frank's head. He holds the base of his cock in his other hand and guides it into Frank's mouth, shivering because of how good it feels.

He grips Frank's head in both hands and starts fucking up into his mouth. He does it slowly at first, but deep, sliding in as far as Frank will take him. When Frank chokes and pulls off to breathe, Mikey whispers, "Yeah, just like that," and guides Frank back down. He whispers, "Come on, Frankie, you can take it. All the way down like a good little cocksucker that's it, come on."

His eyes flutter shut as Frank takes the head of Mikey's cock into his throat, then he forces his eyes open because he doesn't want to miss it. Frank's eyes are closed, lashes dark against his cheeks, and he doesn't even struggle when Mikey grips his head harder and forces Frank down until his nose is buried in Mikey's pubes. Frank gags and tries to pull back but Mikey holds him tight, holds him and waits for Frank to gag again, for tears to appear in his eyes before he lets Frank up for air.

Frank coughs and spit drips down his chin, and as he gasps, Mikey guides his cock back into Frank's mouth and fucks it shallowly for a while, enjoying the feel of Frank's tongue against the bottom of his cock, how loud the wet sound of it is, the way Frank keeps straining forward for more.

"Come on," Frank gasps when Mikey pulls away again. "Make me take it." There's a string of saliva hanging from his bottom lip and his entire chin is damp, dripping down onto his chest.

"Fuck, you look good like this," Mikey moans as he slides his cock over Frank's lower lip. He doesn't let Frank taste it, slides it down across his chin, smears spit and precome over Frank's cheek and the bridge of his nose. "Tell me what you are, Frankie."

Frank turns and leans in, trying to get Mikey's cock back into his mouth.

Mikey grips Frank's hair and tips his head back. "Tell me what you are. Tell me why you want this so bad."

Frank's eyes close and he whispers, "I'm a cocksucker."

Mikey hums with pleasure and slides his cock over Frank's lower lip. "Tell me what else you are."

"Fuck my mouth," Frank gasps. "Please, fuck, I need your fucking cock so bad."

"Tell me what else you are," Mikey says again. "And if you tell me the truth, maybe I'll fuck your face as a reward."

"I'm a dirty little faggot," Frank moans, leaning as far in as Mikey will let him. "Want your cock so bad Mikey, please, fuck, please, I need."

Mikey says, "Yeah," and stops holding back at all. He grips Frank's head in both hands and closes his eyes and just fucks into the soft heat of Frank's mouth, down into the even hotter tightness of his throat. He just fucks and he doesn't even look to see what he's doing to Frank, just takes what he wants and fucks and he's so fucking close and it's so good and Frank's just taking it and Mikey can hear him gagging and gasping for breath, can hear the obscene, wet sounds of his cock slamming into Frank's mouth and it's too much, so good, and Mikey's coming and crying out and shoving his cock as far down Frank's throat as he can.

When he finally pulls back, Frank chokes and coughs and he's fucking wrecked. His face is damp with tears and there's spit and come dripping down his chin onto his chest, sliding down his stomach, and his cock is still so fucking hard.

Mikey says, "Jerk yourself off. Let me see you."

Frank does. Frank shoves his sweats down to mid-thigh and uses the spit and come sliding down his belly to slick his hand and he jerks off quick and hard, coming with a soft gasp, head thrown back. He's fucking beautiful.

Something dark and hot in Mikey's gut makes him grip Frank by the back of the neck and shove him down and say, "Clean up the fucking mess you just made."

And Frank does. His tongue slides between his lips and he laps his come up off the kitchen floor and Mikey thinks, _Holy shit, you're amazing._

When Mikey lets him up, Frank's trembling just a little bit. He wraps his arms around himself and closes his eyes and Mikey realizes that he's crying. He wets a dishtowel in the sink, then kneels down and wipes Frank's face with it, kisses Frank's temple and whispers, "It's okay," before wiping the come and spit and tears off Frank's chest and belly. Then he sits with his back against the cabinets and pulls Frank towards him. Frank comes willingly, curls up against Mikey's chest and lets Mikey stroke his hair and his bare shoulders and his back.

"Don't run away again," Mikey whispers.

Frank doesn’t say anything, just leans against Mikey and curls his fingers into Mikey's t-shirt.

Mikey tries to think of something comforting to say, and what comes out is, "You were so good, Frank, the way you answered me, the way you kept your arms behind your back even when you couldn't breathe. You're such a good boy."

Frank takes a deep breath, then whispers, "Thank you," in a rough voice.

"And so polite," Mikey says, trailing his fingers down Frank's spine. He thinks, _His voice sounds like that because of me, because I shoved my dick down his throat._

Frank's tears stop after a while, though his breath is still shaky. Mikey just keeps rubbing his back and leaning down to kiss the top of Frank's head.

Finally, Frank whispers, "Will you close your eyes?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to go hide in my room and I don't want you to look at me."

"I like looking at you."

Frank sighs and presses his face against Mikey's throat. "Just close your eyes so I can go die of embarrassment."

Mikey says, "What?" and leans to the side, trying to catch sight of Frank's face. "Is that what's going on right now? You're embarrassed?"

Frank says, "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I wasn't going to make you do it again but I fucked up, I keep fucking up and--"

"In what universe did you just make me do anything?" Mikey asks. "I'm pretty sure I'm the one who started it."

"Because you knew," Frank says. "Because you're my friend and you know how fucked up I am and--"

Mikey says, "Dude. I'm not that nice. I didn't do it as a favor. I did it because seeing that goddamn bruise on your hip turned me on so much I could barely think."

Frank lets out a long breath and pulls away from Mikey. He doesn't go far, just slides over to rest his back against the fridge, shifting and pulling his sweats back up.

Mikey realizes that his dick's still hanging out, so he tucks it back in and zips up and mirrors Frank's position, back against the cabinets, knees pulled up to his chest. He touches his feet to Frank's and dips his head down to see Frank's face. He says, "What's going on in there?"

"Minor freakout," Frank tells him.

"Will me talking make it better or worse?"

Frank shrugs.

"Because dude, seriously, talking about shit is my least favorite thing in the world, but I think maybe we have to. I mean, you're not fucking Gina Lewis."

Frank looks up at him. "Who's Gina Lewis and why should I be fucking her?"

Mikey grins. "She's just a girl I fucked in high school while her boyfriend watched. She's not actually the point."

Frank grins back and says, "You fucked her while what, now?"

Mikey rolls his eyes. "Her boyfriend got off watching her bang other dudes and she was crazy hot, so whatever. The point--"

"The point is that you were getting that kind of laid in high school," Frank says. "You asshole. You do realize that the rest of us were, like, begging for hand jobs at the same time as you were just stumbling into one wicked hot porn scenario after the other, right?"

Mikey considers telling Frank about the Harris twins, then decides it's not the right time. "The point is that I never fucking talked about it with her and things got weird after and she ended up hating my guts when we'd always hung out and been friends before, okay?"

Frank says, "I'm not going to end up hating your guts."

"Yeah? Because last time this happened, you disappeared for two days and didn't talk to me for over a week."

Frank hides his face against his knees. "I really did make you do it last time."

"You were a fucking asshole last time," Mikey says. "You were pushing my buttons last time, but you still didn't make me do anything. You didn't make me get off on it."

"I thought you hated me," Frank whispers. "I was too embarrassed to come back at first, and then I thought I should just man up and face it, but then you weren't pissed. I couldn't tell what you were thinking. I kept waiting for you to scream at me. I kept waiting for you to be disgusted."

Mikey puts his toes over Frank's and says, "You want to know what I'm thinking?"

Frank shrugs.

"If you want to do this, I'm in. That's what I'm thinking. If what you want is somebody to, like, shove you around and talk dirty and do pervy shit to you, I'm in."

Frank looks up at him sharply.

"How is that a shock, dude?"

"The stuff I want, Mikes, it's not normal."

"Duh."

Frank laughs at that, startled.

"Normal people are weird. Normal people have day jobs and go to the gym and say things like, 'I'm too full for dessert.' Why would you ever say something like that?"

Frank says, "I don't know."

"So just count me in, all right? For, um, whatever. Because I'll probably like it." It's less embarrassing to admit than he expected it to be.

Frank says, "Okay." He clears his throat, but his voice is still raspy when he says, "I'm going to go get cleaned up. Sitting on the floor like this is killing my ass."

"Can I see?" Mikey asks.

Frank 's getting to his feet, but he pauses halfway up.

"You don't have to show me, but I'd like to see."

Frank stands up fully and takes a deep breath, then turns. He slides his sweats down to just above his knees, and wow.

"Wow," Mikey whispers, kneeling up and touching the dark bruises, stark against his pale skin.

They're hot as hell, Mikey can't lie to himself about that, but there's something about them that makes him uneasy. He's not sure what it is, so he tries to push it away as he runs his fingers down Frank's spine, then over the first bruise he'd seen. He presses on it and says, "Do they still hurt?"

"When you fucking press on them like that they do."

Mikey presses his fingers into the largest of the bruises, a mess of overlapping pink lines and jagged cuts and dark purple-black high on Frank's right thigh. Frank sucks air in through his teeth but doesn't pull away. Mikey kisses the bruise and realizes why the marks make him so uncomfortable. They're messy and disorganized. The guy had been out of control when he'd been hitting Frank. The guy could have really hurt him.

He kisses the bruise that wraps around Frank's hip and he knows it's not supposed to do that. It's not supposed to be so high up, so close to Frank's lower back. It's not supposed to wrap around with a dark, broken edge at the tip. The guy had actually just used Frank, just beat him without regard to Frank's safety, and then he'd just bundled him off into a cab and sent him home. He probably hadn't even held Frank afterwards. He probably hadn't even told Frank how brave he'd been. Mikey's not a violent guy, but if he ever meets Frank's mystery man, he's going to punch him in the face.

"They look really good," Mikey whispers. "And bad. I don't like how out of control he got."

"It was really intense," Frank whispers.

"Too intense?" Mikey asks, easing Frank's sweats back up.

Frank shrugs as Mikey stands, and then they're just like they had been when they'd started. Frank's got his hands on the countertop and Mikey's standing behind him, hands on Frank's hips. Frank says, "It's what I asked for."

Mikey doesn't think it is. He could be wrong, of course. He doesn't actually know what, exactly, Frank wants, but he doesn't think Frank asked the guy to wail on him without any regard for Frank himself. He kisses the back of Frank's neck and says, "I'll mark you up like that if you want, but I'll do it better."

Frank leans back against him. "You can't just say shit like that."

"Why not?"

Frank sighs and says, "I don't know." Then he pushes back against Mikey, and Mikey lets him, doesn't keep hold of his hips or grab his wrist when he turns to go. At least he's just going to take a shower. At least he's not running away.

Mikey sighs and looks around the kitchen. He opens the fridge, but he's not actually hungry, so he closes it again. He makes coffee and watches it brew, pouring himself a cup as soon as there's enough in the pot. There's no real milk in the fridge, but he's used to Frank's almond milk and after he adds sugar, he can barely tell the difference, anyway.

He heads to his room, sipping his coffee, listening at the bathroom door as the shower runs. He doesn't know what he's listening for, really. For the sound of Frank freaking out? They're close, but even he can't read Frank's mind.

He stretches out on his bed with his back against the wall and sips his coffee some more and flips to the last place he stopped in _Empire Falls_. He doesn't think he'll be able to get into it, but he does, after a while, and he's completely lost in the story when Frank clears his throat.

"What you reading?" Frank asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Mikey holds the book up for him to see.

Frank nods. He's in jeans and a sweatshirt and his hair's still damp. He turns and goes, and Mikey thinks he should have said something. He's not sure what to say. Maybe something like, _You're my best friend and I care about you, and also I want to have lots of really dirty sex with you,_ maybe.

He's thinking about getting up and finding Frank, when Frank comes back into his room, book in hand.

Frank says, "Can I?"

Mikey nods and says, "Yeah," even though he's not sure what Frank's asking.

Frank climbs onto Mikey's bed and lays his head in Mikey's lap, then opens his book. After a minute, Mikey goes back to reading. He has to concentrate, though, keeps forgetting what he just read as soon as he's finished with the sentence. Frank has his head in Mikey's lap. They're just lying on Mikey's bed, reading, and Frank's got his head in Mikey's lap. He's pretty stuck on that one detail.

"Do you like it?" Frank asks after a while.

Mikey says, "What?" Then he says, "Oh, the book? Yeah. It's funny."

Frank nods and turns a page.

"What are you reading?"

Frank puts the book down and tips his head up to look at Mikey's face. He says, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're going to."

Mikey raises his eyebrows.

Frank sighs and holds the book up so Mikey can see that it's _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._

Mikey laughs and says, "Dude, I knew we'd turn you to the dark side eventually."

Frank says, "I'm only reading it for research purposes, to figure out what's going on in those weirdo Way brains of yours. If this is your idea of great literature--"

Mikey says, "Fuck great literature. I like a well-written, interesting story."

Frank grins up at him and says, "This is pretty good." Then he turns onto his side and goes back to reading.

Mikey goes back to his book, and after a while he's sucked back into the story. He doesn't even realize that he's got his fingers in Frank's hair until he has to turn the page, which he does, then he's dropping his hand back down onto Frank's head when he realizes what he's doing. He looks down as he slides his fingers through Frank's soft hair. Frank doesn't react, just keeps reading like it's totally normal.

Mikey smiles because it's weird and not-weird at the same time. It's weird because it's nothing that they've ever done before, but it doesn't feel strange. It feels like it's just something that they do.

"Dark wave night at QXT's," he says.

Frank says, "Jesus. I'm only going if they don't play a bunch of German shit."

Mikey smiles to himself. "I can't actually foresee what the DJ's going to play."

"Last time, all they played was Wolfsheim and Das Ich for, like, three hours. Fuck New German Death Art, okay?"

Mikey says, " _Neue Deutsche Todeskunst._ And if they play it for more than half an hour, we'll leave."

Frank shifts over onto his back and says, "I kind of hate that you know how the fuck to say New German Death Art in actual fucking German. And I kind of hate that I know what the fuck New German Death Art is. This is what I get for being friends with you, unwanted knowledge of overly theatrical and depressing musical genres."

"Unwanted knowledge of overly theatrical and depressing musical genres _and_ spankings," Mikey tells him. He bites his lip. He hadn't actually thought that through before he said it. He says, "Um. The spankings shouldn't be unwanted. Or, um, I mean, if they are unwanted, there won't be any." He winces and feels his cheeks heating up.

Frank pushes himself up and sits cross-legged on the bed. He runs his thumb over the book's spine and says, "Is that what you're into?"

Mikey sighs. "I don't know. I've never actually done this with anyone but you."

"Really?"

Mikey nods. "But, um. I've thought about it. A lot. I always assumed it was just something that got me off, um, just in my head, you know? But, uh, I guess not. It's, um, in real life. It's really good in real life."

Frank doesn't look up from his book, but he grins.

"So, like," Mikey says. He blows out a breath. "So the stuff I think about is mostly, um, tying people up and hurting them? I didn't mean that as a question. I mean, that's the stuff I've been thinking about for, like, ever. And leaving them bruised afterwards. And making them cry. And I sound like a psychopath. What do you think about when you jerk off, Mikey? Oh, you know, torture, interrogation scenes, the usual. Fuck."

"I like being tied up," Frank whispers. "And it's not about the pain for me, but that's part of it. It's mostly just, like, being overpowered because I'm not strong enough to fight back. Being dominated and humiliated."

Frank's head is down and his shoulders are curled forward and tense, so Mikey lunges forward and tackles him. He doesn't take him down hard, just uses his body weight and the element of surprise to get Frank onto his back, his head nearly off the foot of the bed.

Mikey smiles down at him and says, "Hi. That wasn't supposed to be me overpowering you or anything, by the way. You just looked really tense and I kind of, um. Wanted to do this." He presses his mouth to Frank's for just a moment, gentle and sure, then pulls away and drops down onto the bed next to him.

Frank rolls onto his side and reaches up to cup Mikey's cheek in his hand. "What are we doing?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"We're not just friends anymore. And I don't think I could go back to that now, anyway, so what are we?"

Mikey shrugs. "We could always try the dating thing."

"The dating thing?"

"You know, when two people are into each other and they hang out and get naked together and go see movies and stuff."

Frank's smiling at him when he says, "I'm familiar with the concept, I'm just making fun of you for calling it 'the dating thing.'"

"Just for that, for our first date, I'm making you take me kick dancing to dark wave music."

"It's not even real kicking," Frank complains. "It shouldn't be called kick dancing, it should be called fake kick dancing."

"It's really kicking," Mikey says. "You're just not kicking anything but the air. In a very mellow way."

"Fine, but I'm requesting Moving Pictures and if they play it, I'm fucking punch dancing like I'm Kevin Bacon in an abandoned warehouse."

"If I request Manic, will you do the abandoned warehouse dance from Flashdance, instead?"

"I don't look as good as Jennifer Beals in a leotard and legwarmers."

"That's up for debate. And she wasn't wearing a leotard in the Maniac scene, she was wearing a tank top and separate brief thingies. You could see her belly button."

Frank raises his eyebrows.

"What? That movie was a seminal event of my childhood."

Frank snort laughs. "Seminal. Jesus. How can anybody even use that word with a straight face?"

Mikey grins at him and shrugs. He closes his eyes and says, "I'm getting ready, now. To go kick dancing."

Frank says, "Mmm-hmm."

Mikey's really just going to close his eyes for a minute. Just close his eyes and enjoy the feel of Frank's hand warm on his cheek. When he wakes up, it's the middle of the night, and Frank's right there, asleep by his side.


End file.
